Full of what he had heard, and impatient to obtain further
information respecting the state of his father's affairs, Lord
Colambre hastened home; but his father was out, and his mother
was engaged with Mr. Soho, directing, or rather being directed,
how her apartments should be fitted up for her gala. As Lord
Colambre entered the room, he saw his mother, Miss Nugent, and
Mr. Soho, standing at a large table, which was covered with rolls
of paper, patterns, and drawings of furniture: Mr. Soho was
speaking in a conceited dictatorial tone, asserting that there
was no 'colour in nature for that room equal to the belly-o'-the
fawn;' which belly-o'-the fawn he so pronounced that Lady
Clonbrony understood it to be la belle uniforme, and, under this
mistake, repeated and assented to the assertion till it was set
to rights, with condescending superiority, by the upholsterer.
This first architectural upholsterer of the age, as he styled
himself, and was universally admitted to be by all the world of
fashion, then, with full powers given to him, spoke en maitre.
The whole face of things must be changed--there must be new
hangings, new draperies, new cornices, new candelabras, new
everything!

The upholsterer's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Glances from ceiling to floor, from floor to ceiling;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The form of things unknown, th' upholsterer's pencil
Turns to shape and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

'And--let me reflect. For the next apartment, it strikes me--as
your la'ship don't value expense--the Alhambra hangings--my own
thought entirely. Now, before I unroll them, Lady Clonbrony, I
must beg you'll not mention I've shown them. I give you my
sacred honour, not a soul has set eye upon the Alhambra hangings,
except Mrs. Dareville, who stole a peep; I refused, absolutely
refused, the Duchess of Torcaster--but I can't refuse your
la'ship. So see, ma'am--(unrolling them)--scagliola porphyry
columns supporting the grand dome--entablature, silvered and
decorated with imitative bronze ornaments; under the entablature,
a valance in pelmets, of puffed scarlet silk, would have an
unparalleled grand effect, seen through the arches--with the
trebisond trellice paper, would make a tout ensemble, novel
beyond example. On that Trebisond trellice paper, I confess,
ladies, I do pique myself.

'Then, for the little room, I recommend turning it temporarily
into a Chinese pagoda, with this Chinese pagoda paper, with the
porcelain border, and josses, and jars, and beakers to match; and
I can venture to promise one vase of pre-eminent size and beauty.
Oh, indubitably! if your la'ship prefers it, you can have the
Egyptian hieroglyphic paper, with the ibis border to match! The
only objection is, one sees it everywhere--quite antediluvian
--gone to the hotels even; but, to be sure, if your la'ship has a
fancy--At all events, I humbly recommend, what her Grace of
Torcaster longs to patronise, my moon curtains, with candlelight
draperies. A demisaison elegance this--I hit off yesterday--and
--true, your la'ship's quite correct--out of the common,
completely. And, of course, you'd have the Sphynx candelabras,
and the Phoenix argands. Oh! nothing else lights now, ma'am!
Expense! Expense of the whole! Impossible to calculate here on
the spot!--but nothing at all worth your ladyship's
consideration!'

At another moment, Lord Colambre might have been amused with all
this rhodomontade, and with the airs and voluble conceit of the
orator; but, after what he had heard at Mr. Mordicai's, this
whole scene struck him more with melancholy than with mirth. He
was alarmed by the prospect of new and unbounded expense;
provoked, almost past enduring, by the jargon and impertinence of
this upholsterer; mortified and vexed to the heart to see his
mother the dupe, the sport of such a coxcomb.

'Prince of puppies!--insufferable!--My own mother!' Lord Colambre
repeated to himself, as he walked hastily up and down the room.

'Colambre, won't you let us have your judgment--your teeste' said
his mother.

He sometimes paused, and looked at Mr. Soho with a strong
inclination to-- But knowing that he should say too much, if he
said anything, he was silent never dared to approach the council
table--but continued walking up and down the room, till he heard
a voice, which at once arrested his attention, and soothed his
ire. He approached the table instantly, and listened, whilst
Grace Nugent said everything he wished to have said, and with all
the propriety and delicacy with which he thought he could not
have spoken. He leaned on the table, and fixed his eyes upon
her--years ago, he had seen his cousin--last night, he had
thought her handsome, pleasing, graceful--but now, he saw a new
person, or he saw her in a new light. He marked the superior
intelligence, the animation, the eloquence of her countenance,
its variety, whilst alternately, with arch raillery or grave
humour, she played off Mr. Soho, and made him magnify the
ridicule, till it was apparent even to Lady Clonbrony. He
observed the anxiety, lest his mother should expose her own
foibles--he was touched by the respectful, earnest kindness--the
soft tones of persuasion, with which she addressed his mother
--the care not to presume upon her own influence--the good sense,
the taste she showed, yet not displaying her superiority--the
address, temper, and patience, with which she at last
accomplished her purpose, and prevented Lady Clonbrony from doing
anything preposterously absurd, or exorbitantly extravagant.

Lord Colambre was actually sorry when the business was ended
--when Mr. Soho departed--for Grace Nugent was then silent; and
it was necessary to remove his eyes from that countenance, on
which he had gazed unobserved. Beautiful and graceful, yet so
unconscious was she of her charms, that the eye of admiration
could rest upon her without her perceiving it--she seemed so
intent upon others as totally to forget herself The whole train
of Lord Colambre's thoughts was so completely deranged that,
although he was sensible there was something of importance he had
to say to his mother, yet, when Mr. Soho's departure left him
opportunity to speak, he stood silent, unable to recollect
anything but--Grace Nugent.

When Grace Nugent left the room, after some minutes' silence, and
some effort, Lord Colambre said to his mother, 'Pray, madam, do
you know anything of Sir Terence O'Fay?'

'I!' Said Lady Clonbrony, drawing up her head proudly; 'I know
he is a person I cannot endure. He is no friend of mine, I can
assure you--nor any such sort of person.'

'About?' said Lady Clonbrony, in a tone, and with a look of
curiosity which convinced her son that she knew nothing of his
debts or distresses, if he had any. 'About what?' repeated her
ladyship.

Here was no receding, and Lord Colambre never had recourse to
artifice.

'About his affairs, I was going to say, madam. But, since you
know nothing of any difficulties or embarrassments, I am
persuaded that none exist.'

Nay, I cawnt tell you that, Colambre. There are difficulties for
ready money, I confess, when I ask for it, which surprise me
often. I know nothing of affairs--ladies of a certain rank
seldom do, you know. But, considering your father's estate, and
the fortune I brought him,' added her ladyship, proudly, 'I cawnt
conceive it at all. Grace Nugent, indeed, often talks to me of
embarrassments and economy; but that, poor thing, is very natural
for her, because her fortune is not particularly large, and she
has left it all, or almost all, in her uncle and guardian's
hands. I know she's often distressed for odd money to lend me,
and that makes her anxious.'

'Of course--in the company she is in, you know, she has every
advantage. And she has a natural family air of fashion--not but
what she would have got on much better, if, when she first
appeared in Lon'on, she had taken my advice, and wrote herself on
her cards Miss de Nogent, which would have taken off the
prejudice against the iricism of Nugent, you know; and there is a
Count de Nogent.'

'I did not know there was any such prejudice, ma'am. There may
be among a certain set; but, I should think, not among well-
informed, well-bred people.'

'Ibig your pawdon, Colambre; surely I, that was born in England,
an Henglish-woman bawn! must be well infawmed on this pint,
anyway.'

'That is her own fau't, entirely; she has refused very good
offers--establishments that, I own, I think, as Lady Langdale
says, I was to blame to allow her to let pass; but young ledies
till they are twenty, always think they can do better. Mr.
Martingale, of Martingale, proposed for her, but she objected to
him on account of he's being on the turf; and Mr. St. Albans'
L7ooo a year--because--I reelly forget what--I believe only
because she did not like him--and something about principles.
Now there is Colonel Heathcock, one of the most fashionable young
men you see, always with the Duchess of Torcaster and that set--
Heathcock takes a vast deal of notice of her, for him; and yet,
I'm persuaded, she would not have him to-morrow, if he came to
the pint, and for no reason, reelly now, that she can give me, but
because she says he's a coxcomb. Grace has a tincture of Irish
pride. But, for my part, I rejoice that she is so difficult, for
I don't know what I should do without her.'

'Miss Nugent is indeed--very much attached to you, mother, I am
convinced,' said Lord Colambre, beginning his sentence with great
enthusiasm, and ending it with great sobriety.

'Indeed then, she's a sweet girl, and I am very partial to her,
there's the truth,' cried Lady Clonbrony, in an undisguised Irish
accent, and with her natural warm manner. But a moment
afterwards her features and whole form resumed their constrained
stillness and stiffness, and, in her English accent, she
continued--

'Before you put my idees out of my head, Colambre, I had
something to say to you--Oh! I know what it was--we were talking
of embarrassments--and I wished to do your father the justice to
mention to you that he has been uncommon liberal to me about this
gala, and has reelly given me carte-blanche; and I've a notion--
indeed I know--that it is you, Colambre, I am to thank for this.'

'He did not speak to me of any affairs, ma'am--he spoke only of
my horses.'

'Then I suppose my lord leaves it to me to open the matter to
you. I have the pleasure to tell you, that we have in view for
you--and I think I may say with more than the approbation of all
her family--an alliance--'

'Oh! my dear mother! you cannot be serious,' cried Lord
Colambre; 'you know I am not of years of discretion yet--I shall
not think of marrying these ten years, at least.'

'Why not? Nay, my dear Colambre, don't go, I beg--I am serious,
I assure you--and, to convince you of it, I shall tell you
candidly, at once, all your father told me: that now you've done
with Cambridge, and are come to Lon'on, he agrees with me in
wishing that you should make the figure you ought to make,
Colambre, as sole heir-apparent to the Clonbrony estate, and all
that sort of thing. But, on the other hand, living in Lon'on,
and making you the handsome allowance you ought to have, are,
both together, more than your father can afford, without
inconvenience, he tells me.'

'No, no; you must not be content, child, and you must hear me.
You must live in a becoming style, and make a proper appearance.
I could not present you to my friends here, nor be happy, if you
did not, Colambre. Now the way is clear before you: you have
birth and title, here is fortune ready made; you will have a
noble estate of your own when old Quin dies, and you will not be
any encumbrance or inconvenience to your father or anybody.
Marrying an heiress accomplishes all this at once; and the young
lady is everything we could wish, besides--you will meet again at
the gala. Indeed, between ourselves, she is the grand object of
the gala; all her friends will come en masse, and one should wish
that they should see things in proper style. You have seen the
young lady in question, Colambre--Miss Broadhurst. Don't you
recollect the young lady I introduced you to last night after the
opera?'

'In di'monds, yes. But you won't think her plain when you see
more of her--that wears off; I thought her plain, at first--I
hope--'

'I hope,' said Lord Colambre, 'that you will not take it unkindly
of me, my dear mother, if I tell you, at once, that I have no
thoughts of marrying at present--and that I never will marry for
money. Marrying an heiress is not even a new way of paying old
debts--at all events, it is one to which no distress could
persuade me to have recourse; and as I must, if I outlive old Mr.
Quin, have an independent fortune, there is no occasion to
purchase one by marriage.'

'There is no distress, that I know of, in the case,' cried Lady
Clonbrony. 'Where is your imagination running, Colambre? But
merely for your establishment, your independence.'

'Establishment, I want none--independence I do desire, and will
preserve. Assure my father, my dear mother, that I will not be
an expense to him. I will live within the allowance he made me
at Cambridge--I will give up half of it--I will do anything for
his convenience--but marry for money, that I cannot do.'

'Then, Colambre, you are very disobliging,' said Lady Clonbrony,
with an expression of disappointment and displeasure; 'for your
father says, if you don't marry Miss Broadhurst, we can't live in
Lon'on another winter.'

This said--which, had she been at the moment mistress of herself,
she would not have let out--Lady Clonbrony abruptly quitted the
room. Her son stood motionless, saying to himself--

The next morning he seized an opportunity of speaking to his
father, whom he caught, with difficulty, just when he was going
out, as usual, for the day. Lord Colambre, with all the respect
due to his father, and with that affectionate manner by which he
always knew how to soften the strength of his expressions, made
nearly the same declarations of his resolution, by which his
mother had been so much surprised and offended. Lord Clonbrony
seemed more embarrassed, but not so much displeased. When Lord
Colambre adverted, as delicately as he could, to the selfishness
of desiring from him the sacrifice of liberty for life, to say
nothing of his affections, merely to enable his family to make a
splendid figure in London, Lord Clonbrony exclaimed, 'That's all
nonsense!--cursed nonsense! That's the way we are obliged to
state the thing to your mother, my dear boy, because I might talk
her deaf before she would understand or listen to anything else.
But, for my own share, I don't care a rush if London was sunk in
the salt sea. Little Dublin for my money, as Sir Terence O'Fay
says.'

'Why, don't you know Terry? Ay, you've been so long at
Cambridge, I forgot. And did you never see Terry?'

'I have seen him, sir--I met him yesterday at Mr. Mordicai's, the
coachmaker's.'

'Mordicai's!' exclaimed Lord Clonbrony, with a sudden blush,
which he endeavoured to hide by taking snuff. 'He is a damned
rascal, that Mordicai! I hope you didn't believe a word he said
--nobody does that knows him.'

'I am glad, sir, that you seem to know him so well, and to be
upon your guard against him,' replied Lord Colambre; 'for, from
what I heard of his conversation, when he was not aware who I
was, I am convinced he would do you any injury in his power.'

'He shall never have me in his power, I promise him. We shall
take care of that. But what did he say?'

Lord Colambre repeated the substance of what Mordicai had said,
and Lord Clonbrony reiterated--'Damned rascal!--damned rascal!
I'll get out of his hands; I'll have no more to do with him.'
But, as he spoke, he exhibited evident symptoms of uneasiness,
moving continually, and shifting from leg to leg like a foundered
horse.

He could not bring himself positively to deny that he had debts
and difficulties; but he would by no means open the state of his
affairs to his son--'No father is called upon to do that,' said
he to himself; 'none but a fool would do it.'

Lord Colambre, perceiving his father's embarrassment, withdrew
his eyes, respectfully refrained from all further inquiries, and
simply repeated the assurance he had made to his mother, that he
would put his family to no additional expense; and that, if it
was necessary, he would willingly give up half his allowance.

'Not at all--not at all, my dear boy,' said his father; 'I would
rather cramp myself than that you should be cramped, a thousand
times over. But it is all my Lady Clonbrony's nonsense. If
people would but, as they ought, stay in their own country, live
on their own estates, and kill their own mutton, money need never
be wanting.'

For killing their own mutton, Lord Colambre did not see the
indispensable necessity; but he rejoiced to hear his father
assert that people should reside in their own country.

'Ay,' cried Lord Clonbrony, to strengthen his assertion, as he
always thought it necessary to do, by quoting some other person's
opinion. 'So Sir Terence O'Fay always says, and that's the
reason your mother can't endure poor Terry. You don't know
Terry? No, you have only seen him; but, indeed, to see him is to
know him; for he is the most off-hand, good fellow in Europe.'

'I don't pretend to know him yet,' said Lord Colambre. 'I am not
so presumptuous as to form my opinion at first sight.'

'Oh, curse your modesty!' interrupted Lord Clonbrony; 'you mean,
you don't pretend to like him yet; but Terry will make you like
him. I defy you not. I'll introduce you to him--him to you, I
mean--most warn-hearted, generous dog upon earth--convivial--
jovial--with wit and humour enough, in his own way, to split you
--split me if he has not. You need not cast down your eyes,
Colambre. What's your objection?'

'I have made none, sir; but, if you urge me, I can only say that,
if he has all these good qualities, it is to be regretted that he
does not look and speak a little more like a gentleman.'

'A gentleman! he is as much a gentleman as any of your formal
prigs--not the exact Cambridge cut, maybe. Curse your English
education! 'Twas none of my advice. I suppose you mean to take
after your mother in the notion that nothing can be good, or
genteel, but what's English.'

'Far from it, sir; I assure you, I am as warm a friend to Ireland
as your heart could wish. You will have no reason, in that
respect at least, nor, I hope, in any other, to curse my English
education; and, if my gratitude and affection can avail, you
shall never regret the kindness and liberality with which you
have, I fear, distressed yourself to afford me the means of
becoming all that a British nobleman ought to be.'

'Gad! you distress me now!' said Lord Clonbrony, 'and I didn't
expect it, or I wouldn't make a fool of myself this way,' added
he, ashamed of his emotion, and whiffling it off. 'You have an
Irish heart, that I see, which no education can spoil. But you
must like Terry. I'll give you time, as he said to me, when
first he taught me to like usquebaugh. Good morning to you!'

Whilst Lady Clonbrony, in consequence of her residence in London,
had become more of a fine lady, Lord Clonbrony, since he left
Ireland, had become less of a gentleman. Lady Clonbrony, born an
Englishwoman, disclaiming and disencumbering herself of all the
Irish in town, had, by giving splendid entertainments, at an
enormous expense, made her way into a certain set of fashionable
company. But Lord Clonbrony, who was somebody in Ireland, who
was a great person in Dublin, found himself nobody in England, a
mere cipher in London, Looked down upon by the fine people with
whom his lady associated, and heartily weary of them, he
retreated from them altogether, and sought entertainment and
self-complacency in society beneath him--indeed, both in rank and
education, but in which he had the satisfaction of feeling
himself the first person in company. Of these associates, the
first in talents, and in jovial profligacy, was Sir Terence
O'Fay--a man of low extraction, who had been knighted by an Irish
lord-lieutenant in some convivial frolic. No one could tell a
good story, or sing a good song better than Sir Terence; he
exaggerated his native brogue, and his natural propensity to
blunder, caring little whether the company laughed at him or with
him, provided they laughed. 'Live and laugh--laugh and live,'
was his motto; and certainly he lived on laughing, as well as
many better men can contrive to live on a thousand a year.

Lord Clonbrony brought Sir Terence home with him next day to
introduce him to Lord Colambre; and it happened that on this
occasion Terence appeared to peculiar disadvantage, because, like
many other people, 'Il gatoit l'esprit qu'il avoit en voulant
avoir celui qu'il n'avoit pas.'

Having been apprised that Lord Colambre was a fine scholar, fresh
from Cambridge, and being conscious of his own deficiencies of
literature, instead of trusting to his natural talents, he
summoned to his aid, with no small effort, all the scraps of
learning he had acquired in early days, and even brought before
the company all the gods and goddesses with whom he had formed an
acquaintance at school. Though embarrassed by this unusual
encumbrance of learning, he endeavoured to make all subservient
to his immediate design, of paying his court to Lady Clonbrony,
by forwarding the object she had most anxiously in view--the
match between her son and Miss Broadhurst.

'And so, Miss Nugent,' said he, not daring, with all his
assurance, to address himself directly to Lady Clonbrony--'and
so, Miss Nugent, you are going to have great doings, I'm told,
and a wonderful grand gala. There's nothing in the wide world
equal to being in a good, handsome crowd. No later now than the
last ball at the Castle that was before I left Dublin, Miss
Nugent--the apartments, owing to the popularity of my lady-
lieutenant, was so throng--so throng--that I remember very well,
in the doorway, a lady--and a very genteel woman she was too,
though a stranger to me--saying to me, "Sir, your finger's in my
ear." "I know it, madam," says I, "but I can't take it out till
the crowd give me elbow room."

'But it's gala I'm thinking of now. I hear you are to have the
golden Venus, my Lady Clonbrony, won't you?'

This freezing monosyllable notwithstanding, Sir Terence pursued
his course fluently. 'The golden Venus!--Sure, Miss Nugent, you,
that are so quick, can't but know I would apostrophise Miss
Broadhurst that is, but that won't be long so, I hope. My Lord
Colambre, have you seen much yet of that young lady?'

'Then I hope you won't be long so. I hear great talk now of the
Venus of Medicis, and the Venus of this and that, with the
Florence Venus, and the sable Venus, and that other Venus, that's
washing of her hair, and a hundred other Venuses, some good, some
bad. But, be that as it will, my lord, trust a fool--ye may,
when he tells you truth--the golden Venus is the only one on
earth that can stand, or that will stand, through all ages and
temperatures; for gold rules the court, gold rules the camp, and
men below, and heaven above.'

'Do I? Don't I?' replied Terry. 'Deny, if you please, my lord,
that it was for a golden pippin that the three goddesses fit--and
that the Hippomenes was about golden apples--and did not Hercules
rob a garden for golden apples?--and did not the pious Eneas
himself take a golden branch with him, to make himself welcome to
his father in hell?' said Sir Terence, winking at Lord Colambre.

'Why, Terry, you know more about books than I should have
suspected,' said Lord Clonbrony.

'Nor you would not have suspected me to have such a great
acquaintance among the goddesses neither, would you, my lord?
But, apropos, before we quit, of what material, think ye, was
that same Venus's famous girdle, now, that made roses and lilies
so quickly appear? Why, what was it, but a girdle of sterling
gold, I'll engage?--for gold is the only true thing for a young
man to look after in a wife.'

'Let them talk of Cupids and darts, and the mother of the Loves
and Graces. Minerva may sing odes and dythambrics, or whatsoever
her wisdomship pleases. Let her sing, or let her say she'll
never get a husband in this world or the other, without she had a
good thumping fortin, and then she'd go off like wildfire.'

'No, no, Terry, there you're out; Minerva has too bad a character
for learning to be a favourite with gentlemen,' said Lord
Clonbrony.

'Tut--Don't tell me!--I'd get her off before you could say Jack
Robinson, and thank you too, if she had fifty thousand down, or a
thousand a year in land. Would you have a man so d-d nice as to
balk when house and land is a-going--a-going--a-going!--because
of the encumbrance of a little learning? I never heard that Miss
Broadhurst was anything of a learned lady.'

'Miss Broadhurst!' said Grace Nugent; 'how did you get round to
Miss Broadhurst?'

'I beg your pardon, my lord, it was apropos to a good fortune,
which, I hope, will not be out of your way, even if you went by
Tipperary. She has, besides L100,000 in the funds, a clear
landed property of L10,000 per annum. Well! Some people talk of
morality, and some of religion, but give me a little snug
property. But, my lord, I've a little business to transact this
morning, and must not be idling and indulging myself here.' So,
bowing to the ladies, he departed.

'Really, I am glad that man is gone,' said Lady Clonbrony. 'What
a relief to one's ears! I am sure I wonder, my lord, how you can
bear to carry that strange creature always about with you--so
vulgar as he is.'

'He diverts me,' said Lord Clonbrony, 'while many of your
correct-mannered fine ladies or gentlemen put me to sleep. What
signifies what accent people speak in that have nothing to say
--hey, Colambre?'

Lord Colambre, from respect to his father, did not express his
opinion, but his aversion to Sir Terence O'Fay was stronger even
than his mother's; though Lady Clonbrony's detestation of him was
much increased by perceiving that his coarse hints about Miss
Broadhurst had operated against her favourite scheme.

The next morning, at breakfast, Lord Clonbrony talked of bringing
Sir Terence with him that night to her gala. She absolutely grew
pale with horror.

'Good heavens! Lady Langdale, Mrs. Dareville, Lady Pococke, Lady
Chatterton, Lady D--, Lady G--, his Grace of V--; what would they
think of him? And Miss Broadhurst to see him going about with my
Lord Clonbrony!'--It could not be. No; her ladyship made the
most solemn and desperate protestation, that she would sooner
give up her gala altogether--tie up the knocker--say she was sick
--rather be sick, or be dead, than be obliged to have such a
creature as Sir Terence O'Fay at her gala.

'Have it your own way, my dear, as you have everything else!'
cried Lord Clonbrony, taking up his hat, and preparing to decamp;
'but, take notice, if you won't receive him you need not expect
me. So a good morning to you, my Lady Clonbrony. You may find a
worse friend in need, yet, than that same Sir Terence O'Fay.'

'I trust I shall never be in need, my lord,' replied her
ladyship. 'It would be strange, indeed, if I were, with the
fortune I brought.'

'Oh! that fortune of hers!' cried Lord Clonbrony, stopping both
his ears as he ran out of the room; 'shall I never hear the end
of that fortune, when I've seen the end of it long ago?'

During this matrimonial dialogue, Grace Nugent and Lord Colambre
never once looked at each other. Grace was very diligently
trying the changes that could be made in the positions of a
china-mouse, a cat, a dog, a cup, and a Brahmin, on the
mantelpiece; Lord Colambre as diligently reading the newspaper.

'Now, my dear Colambre,' said Lady Clonbrony, 'put down the
paper, and listen to me. Let me entreat you not to neglect Miss
Broadhurst to-night, as I know that the family come here chiefly
on your account.'

'My dear mother, I never can neglect any deserving young lady,
and particularly one of your guests; but I shall be careful not
to do more than not to neglect, for I never will pretend what I
do not feel.'

'But, my dear Colambre, Miss Broadhurst is everything you could
wish, except being a beauty.'

'Perhaps, madam,' said Lord Colambre, fixing his eyes on Grace
Nugent, 'you think that I can see no farther than a handsome
face?'

The unconscious Grace Nugent now made a warm eulogium of Miss
Broadhurst's sense, and wit, and independence of character.

'I did not know that Miss Broadhurst was a friend of yours, Miss
Nugent?'

'She is, I assure you, a friend of mine; and, as a proof, I will
not praise her at this moment. I will go farther still--I will
promise that I never will praise her to you till you begin to
praise her to me.'

Lord Colambre smiled, and now listened, as if he wished that
Grace should go on speaking, even of Miss Broadhurst.

'That's my sweet Grace!' cried Lady Clonbrony. 'Oh! she knows
how to manage these men--not one of them can resist her!'

Lord Colambre, for his part, did not deny the truth of this
assertion.

'Grace,' added Lady Clonbrony, 'make him promise to do as we
would have him.'

'No; promises are dangerous things to ask or to give,' said
Grace. 'Men and naughty children never make promises, especially
promises to be good, without longing to break them the next
minute.'

'Well, at least, child, persuade him, I charge you, to make my
gala go off well. That's the first thing we ought to think of
now. Ring the bell! And all heads and hands I put in
requisition for the gala.'